Jaye Marie's Blog, page 1908

Starlight Blogger Award...

I would like to thank Sue Vincent for awarding me the honour of the Starlight Blogger Award.The design for this award has been created from YesterdayAfter. It is a Copyright image, you cannot alter or change it in any way, just pass it on to others who deserve this award. Copyright 2015 © Yesterday After.com – Design by Carolina Russo.In accordance with the guidelines, answer the questions, link back to the person who nominated you and pass it on:
1)      If you could meet anyone from throughout history, who would it be and why?
If I could meet anyone from history, it would have to be Leonardo de Vinci, for all the astounding things that came out of his brain, and the way he conducted his life. From writing everything as a mirror image to keep it secret, to his wonderfully complex and accurate drawings.
2)      What is your favourite book, and why?
My favourite book (at the moment) is The Book Thief.  I say, at the moment because it is subject to change, there are so many lovely books out there. But this book inspired me to start writing and for that I will love it forever.
3)      Who is your favourite fiction character from any medium, and why?
My favourite fiction character of all time has to be Merlin, the wizard. I believe he actually existed and could do all the magical things we read about. You can feel his presence in so many places not to believe in him.

I nominate the following bloggers, all of which have inspired me at one time or another and who deserve this award far more than I do :-
Aliisaacstoryteller
The Whispering Pen
Drew Chial
A Delectable Life
Louisewyattmusings
Julie Lawford
If you are not on this list, please don't feel offended... I would love to nominate every single one of you, for all the help and companionship you have given me.So I bless you all...

Shades of The Smiler…

The recent disaster at Alton Towers last week, where one of ‘The Smiler’ carriages collided with a stationary one, seriously injuring four people and damaging 16 others was very distressing to say the least. The last place you want to have an accident is at an amusement park.We have to trust that all the rides are well maintained and safe, and to be fair, I think this was the first accident of this kind at Alton Towers. Still one too many, really.

It reminded me of something that happened to our family in 1972.I have always loved fairground rides. The faster and more dangerous the better, and roller coasters were my personal favourite. We were at Dreamland, the famous amusement park in Margate, Kent.This roller coaster was one of the oldest wooden ones in Britain and I had been on it countless times without incident. It was a lovely summer’s day, the park was buzzing with excited children, all having the time of their lives.
We were on the coaster, travelling towards the highest section, already anticipating the plunge that was to come afterwards.These wooden coasters always had to have a ‘brake man’ at the front, to control the speed of the carriages, but to most of us, he was invisible. We never took any notice of him, and his presence did not spoil our enjoyment in the slightest.Right at the top of the climb, we seemed to lurch violently to one side as a deafening screech rent the air. Our carriage had left the rails and was leaning precariously over the edge of the climb, and it didn’t take the children long to panic. The rest of us were terrified too, but trying not to alarm the children any more than they were.
The brakeman appeared and said we had to walk back down the way we had come, and I remember looking at him, thinking he was joking. There was no way we could all climb back down to safety. We were far too high up!Then I looked at the occupants of our carriage. Apart from us, there were a few older people, the rest were children. If we did not do it, chances are we would be up there for a while.I don’t remember much about what happened next, only that I was really scared, but trying hard not to show it as I helped with the children.
Perhaps if I had known the history of this particular roller coaster, we might not have been on it that day.It was built in 1920, and had been damaged by fire in 1949, 1957 and 2008.  Some of the Margate carriages were sold to Battersea Fun Fair in 1972, and installed on their scenic railway. Disaster struck again, this time killing five children and injuring several more.Shortly after this, all the wooden roller coasters were removed, as the public did not trust them anymore.I don’t really understand why you would build things like this out of wood in the first instance. They used to wobble and sway all over the place. As a child of course, this only added to the fun.However, accidents like these are far from funny.

Bucket of Dreams... part one

The First Dream
I have reached the time of life when you start to think of all the things you wish you had done. The proverbial Bucket List. Usually this consists of something you have never done, but always wished you had. The one I am going to tell you about is something I have been trying to do for a very long time.
As a keen bonsai grower, the exquisitely beautiful flowering trees have always fascinated me. Usually far too expensive, so I didn’t have one in my collection.So I tried the next best thing. I planted seeds, pips, fruit stones, anything I could get my hands on. 
Some of them did grow, but a lot of them didn’t. Peach stones in particular, are impossible, and what they never tell you, is that it can take years for a seedling to produce any flowers.I have two cherry seedlings that I planted four years ago, and every Spring I watch and watch as the first buds appear. But so far, none of them have been flowers buds.
It tests your patience to the absolute limit, but you do it anyway, repeatedly.Apple pips are never very successful I have found, for some reason, they get mildew and gradually die.


The Year one Dream Came True
When we first moved to our present house in Hampshire, in the south of England six years ago, I noticed a Laburnum tree on a roundabout in the middle of town. You don’t see many of these anymore, as people are a bit put off by the fact that the seed pods are poisonous. Silly really, when you consider that most of the plants in our gardens wouldn’t do you any good either.

I love the Laburnum. Such pretty leaves, and in the Spring, long spikes of drooping yellow flowers cascade like a sunshine shower. I had to wait until the flowers had finished and the seed pods were ripe, and then I went and retrieved some.

To cut a long story short, they started to grow. The years passed, and every Spring I waited for the buds to appear. When no flowers appeared, I just assumed they would come along when nature was ready.But this year something was different. What I first thought were just leaf buds began to change shape, becoming pointed. I showed them to my sister Anita, but she doesn’t really share my passion for bonsai. She took a quick look and said I was imagining it.But I was having none of it. I believed.

Gradually, the flower shoots emerged, growing steadily longer with each day that passed, some even had a faint tinge of yellow. Every day I watched as they grew bigger. I had finally done it. Something I had grown from the seed I collected had finally flowered.

I wonder what will be next?
I keep looking at this tiny tree every day and marvel.  Now I keep thinking about all the other things that should be on my list, and who knows, I may share them with you…






P.S. One other dream that is quite near the top of my list, is to be a successful author.If you would like to contribute to this dream, my book, The Ninth Life , the first of a series, is to be found here...   Many thanks!

Mixed Blessings...

The weekend did not start well, torrential rain, thunderstorms, and the oven blew up.

Well, to be fair, 'blow up' is a bit strong really. There was a loud bang, which I ignored, assuming it had nothing to do with me. We live on a main road (ugh!) and there are always noises. But when I went to check on dinner, the oven was cold. Raw potatoes welcomed me with a definite 'what are you going to do now' expression.

Luckily, I am nothing if not resourceful, and as said failure only concerned the oven, I chucked everything in several frying pans and finished the cooking that way. Now all I had to do was call out the repair man and wait several days for him to arrive. The microwave would be on double duty until then.




On a lighter note, only marginally it's true, I discovered that the rain had not done too much damage outside in the garden. There was just the one casualty, and it had to be the one flower I had been waiting to open for what seemed like weeks.

The red peony had opened long ago, but the pale pink one was very special and had taken its sweet time.  I had almost given up, thinking there was something wrong with it.




But as I walked down the garden, I could see the sadness long before I reached it. The pink peony had finally opened and the huge flowers had been beaten to the ground by the rain. Some of the blooms were mud splashed, so I rescued them and brought them indoors for a quick rinse under the tap. They never last long, but their display is glorious, so hopefully we can enjoy them for a while longer, despite nature's attempt to destroy them.

Many good wishes to all... see you soon!

My Favourite Places… part two

Not far from where I live is a lovely rural village called Buriton. When we first moved to Hampshire, we discovered the place by accident and fell in love with it and their beautiful pond.
It is always peaceful there, something to do with its location, I’m sure, as it nestles in a lush green valley quite close to the South Downs. Unfortunately, it is quite a popular spot and you have to take your chances, but it is always worth a visit. Always something going on, from ducklings in the spring to the changing of the seasons.
We have gone there in the summer, winter, sunshine and showers, (and the ice and snow) Spectacular at any time of the year, and always conjures up a deep spiritual peace.Yesterday, I played hooky from all the writing, blogging and all the millions of other jobs that nag to be done. Telling myself it was probably a good opportunity for a blog post at the very least, I was determined to enjoy both the warm weather and the time off.
The first thing I noticed when I stepped out of the car was a grey crane, wading through the shallow water. We ended up following him all around the pond, as he obviously didn’t like the look of us at all.
We like to walk around the edge, seeing the pond from every angle, and as we passed a tall clump of yellow iris, we saw something small and brown busily chewing on a stalk at the water’s edge. We crept towards it, fully expecting it to scurry away, but it did not. It seemed to be just as curious about us, peering up at us with its little beady eyes. I went closer and closer, camera at the ready and ended up incredibly close.
Not sure what it was, but it studied us with great interest. We offered some of the wholemeal bread we had brought for the ducks, and he nibbled away, keeping an eye on us.Just then, a couple with a dog came along. Quick as a flash, we surrounded the creature and kept the dog away. When we turned back, he had gone and we knew we could stop worrying.
If there is one thing I am grateful for in this digital age, is that you no longer have to have a several rolls of film in your pocket. I can take as many photographs as I like, and by heck, I do!
                                                        ************************
Would anyone like to share some of their favourite places, here, on my blog?E-mail me with details and a picture or two, at jayemarie01@btinternet.com.The more the merrier! 
Progress report on WIP... 30.000 words already and going well! 

Normal ... by Graeme Cameron

Review of the Week!



This book was described as;  ‘Dark, twisted and compelling, the most exciting and original thriller of the year’…and was a first for me. Having recently becoming a fan of crime/thrillers, this one came as one hell of a surprise!
 

‘Normal’…a strange name for a book about a serial killer?
But this is the clever way the author, Graeme Cameron makes you think of the nameless killer in this fascinating different psychological thriller.  An anti-hero with an amazing sense of humour that you find yourself liking, despite what you know of him. He should be despicable, deplorable, someone you should despise. Yet do not. Graeme Cameron
A brand new genre… comedy /thriller. 
Exquisitely hilarious…


Readers will enjoy this story, it is entertaining in a way most book are not. As a writer myself, I can only marvel at the complexity, the vast array of observation and emotions, the depth of the characterisation. In short, an amazingly brilliant book!

Editing the Hedge...

I took the afternoon off the other day to cut the rather large and long hedge in our back garden. All the time I was doing it, my mind was editing the last chapter I had written that morning. My mind is like that, give it something to do that doesn’t involve a lot of thinking, and it will entertain itself.
Just down the road from me, someone has trimmed their hedge to look like a dragon. Must have been very difficult, and quite something to see. ( and not something I feel qualified to try, before you ask)



As I was clearing up, piling all the cut leaves into my garden waste collection sack, I was struck yet again by the similarity to life that editing a book and trimming a hedge really is. 
You start with an untidy mess, overgrown and out of control. You look at it, wondering where to begin, doubtful of your ability/capability to do the job justice.

Plucking up the courage to begin, you chip away, trimming here, shortening there, trying to make it perfect. Standing back from it, you notice all the small things that need your attention, and you go back to it, determined to get it right.
At least that’s your intention.




Unfortunately, either the hedge in my garden is too long, or I am not as fit as once was, but the finished result was not perfect. Mostly down to the fact that the cordless hedge clipper ran out of juice long before I had finished. Yes, I know you can get electric ones, but having cut through three cables and narrowly missing frying my good self, these days I am giving them a wide berth!


Thankfully, editing a manuscript is a lot easier than trying to trim a seven foot high, thirty foot long monster of a hedge.
Thank God for that at least.

The Language of Flowers

The reader picked up the book at her local charity shop. The cover was worn, the spine creased. Someone had enjoyed reading it, she thought, always a good sign. She turned it over in her hand to read the blurb and it sounded interesting enough. The title might indicate it was a romance, possibly what they called a holiday read these days.
It turned out to be the bittersweet, painful story of Victoria, someone who desperately wanted to love and be loved, but whom life had taught to run away.As she read the book, a part of her found a truth, some recognition inside her. It could have been written about her, and as she read on the pain became more unbearable, and she wondered how it would end. Will it confirm what she already knew, or would it revert to a happy ending?





We all need to know love, to receive and share it. We seem to be born with the knowledge of how special it should be, how perfectly beautiful it will be, should we ever find it.For many of us though, the dream is impossible and elusive.


Even when we get a glimpse, the breath of possibility, it usually escapes us, never matching what we feel inside.We are always left wanting, having to settle for what little we get.
However, the author had not finished. She would show the reader everything she had done wrong, what she should have done.The reason she could not love was because she had never been show how.  This was where she, and the character in the book, differed. Victoria had been offered help, many times, only to refuse it. Whereas the reader never had, no one had ever tried to help her. Sometimes someone would want to, but life decreed otherwise and it never happened. She was not raised by a loving mother. No one reared her. She was unattached, unloved and unwanted.

It said on the cover that ‘Anyone can grow into something beautiful’ but the optimum word there, is ‘can’.But we all believe this and sometimes it is true.
She didn’t know what to expect when she began to read this book. A pretty love story perhaps, centred on the Victorian language of flowers.
As she progressed through the pages, she found herself reading about her very own painful and miserable life, and tears dampened nearly every page.
The end was a typical Hollywood finale, love conquers all, forgiveness and happy ever after, the whole nine yards.
Perfect ending for the book… but not for her...

Acknowledgements to the author of this beautiful book, Vanessa Diffenbaugh.

Second Tries, or How to make the right decisions?

My brain must be like Emmental cheese these days, soft, spongy and full of holes. I am getting really fed up with trying to think and decide what to do, or even knowing if the final decision is the right one. As they say, if I had half a brain, I would be dangerous!
I can't decide (or remember) if I have always been like this, or if this state of affairs is yet another symptom of my advancing years.

Time is becoming problematic, far too much of it is spent second-guessing. Wouldn't life be more efficient if all deliberation could be removed? Easier to pick a winkle out of its shell with a pin, I hear you say. But I am heartily sick of wondering which item to buy, which programme to watch, whether to cut my hair, the list is endless.

Added to my inability to choose anything, is the sure and certain knowledge that whichever one I pick, it will be the wrong one. Always is. I never get anything right on the first try.

Could life be more like plotting a book?

Now, I know that many writers don’t believe in plotting. They believe their characters will do most of the hard work for them, and I have experienced this first hand too. But other writers firmly believe in careful plotting, even a story board.All my life, I have been a ‘winger’, hurtling from one idea to the next. Sometimes getting it right, but more often not. Advancing age has changed all that. I no longer have the time for hit and miss. Decisions I make now, have to be right, although how this will happen, remains to be seen.

Now, I am still virtually new to this writing business, and with the idea of getting it right first time (could be a novelty in itself!) I tried plotting. With a lot of practice, I’m getting better. So much so, that the sequel to my first book has been thoroughly plotted, storyboard and everything. But this is not something you could really do with your life. Too many decisions, and so many ways of dealing with them. In addition, other people tend to make your life awkward, sometimes it seems, just to be bloody minded.

Could it be as simple as throwing a dice?
Then I remembered something. (It does still happen sometimes!) I once read about a man who always made every decision with the turn of a dice, and apparently, his life was glorious. Maybe it was worth a try, as my way was getting me nowhere.On second thoughts, that sounds worse than ‘winging it’. But if I were younger…

They say there are 'two sides to every story' and 'everything happens for a reason', but what if neither of these things is true? What if it is as simple as right or wrong?
Could it be that when life gets too difficult, we are simply trying to force wrong into being right?

Should we blindly follow our instincts?
Recently, I have been thinking back through my life and all the different choices that I had to make. To that small, persistent voice that nags you, insisting you do this or that. How many times had I ignored it, thinking my own choice was better, usually for all manner of reasons? Would my life have been better if I had obeyed that still, small voice? If I had not always chosen the path of least resistance, the path that always looked inevitable. Maybe the choice that looked the hardest, the most impossible, would have turned out better than what actually happened?

Maybe then, I wouldn't have so many things to be sorry for, so many people I should apologise to.
If there is such a thing as reincarnation and I get another chance to live a better life, I hope I remember some of the things I have done wrong, all of the people I have hurt, and do it better next time.

God Bless and see you all next week...

Batteries Included…

  When I got up this morning, something strange had happened to the clock in the living room. A battery/electric job with a bright LED display, necessary for people with failing eyesight and an abhorrence of any that tick.
The display was still lit, well, sort of. All you could see was an eerie green glow, no numbers and I wondered what could be wrong. These days things go wrong in all manner of ways, so it was not immediately apparent as to the problem here.
The power was still on, so I really didn’t understand the problem. Well, in my defence, I had just got up. These things tend to happen a lot lately, so I was not unduly worried. Probably just have to get a new one.


Sometime later, I started to wonder about the batteries. Why on earth did it have them anyway? Then I remembered, in the event of a power cut the clock would still be able to function. Maybe we had one in the middle of the night?
Then I remembered what could happen to old batteries. The clock was quite old, so it was possible they had corroded. Still didn’t understand why this should have removed the display, as it was plugged into the mains.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I picked up the clock. On the bottom was a sticker, which read ‘When displays fails, change the batteries.’ So I did, and normal service resumed.


Still none the wiser, but then there is a growing list of things I no longer understand these days.
As Anita said, “Wouldn’t it be great if we could insert new batteries somewhere on our persons?”
Well, she didn’t quite put it like that, but you get the meaning!